


for the fallen

by WisdomPearl



Category: Assassination Classroom, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Angst, Death, F/M, Gen, Hunger Games AU, OOC, Out of Character, based off a simulation, flowers have meaning, gakuho as president snow, graphic violence tag added to be safe, human korosensei, i tried im sorry-, korosensei as caesar flickerman, the kids are aware of the corrupt system
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:15:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24550684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WisdomPearl/pseuds/WisdomPearl
Summary: Twenty-four tributes. One arena. One Victor. How will the students fare? They hope that the odds will be in their favor, but will it?based off a simulation ^^
Relationships: Chiba Ryuunosuke/Hayami Rinka
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	for the fallen

**Author's Note:**

> this is an AU, so it’s like if the Hunger Games had the AC characters in it
> 
> and since this is an AU, i’m sorry but CHARACTERS WILL BE OOC (OUT OF CHARACTER)
> 
> let’s pretend that Gakuho isn’t Gakushuu’s father for this AU
> 
> SPOILER WARNING FOR A HUMAN KORO-SENSEI MENTION (I NAMED HIM KOROSENAI SINCE IT FIT BETTER)
> 
> District 1: Karma and Rio  
> District 2: Nagisa and Kayano  
> District 3: Gakushuu and Kaho  
> District 4: Taekbayashi and Okuda  
> District 5: Itona and Kirara  
> District 6: Chiba and Hayami  
> District 7: Ren and Megu  
> District 8: Maehara and Yada  
> District 9: Isogai and Hinano  
> District 10: Sugino and Kanzaki  
> District 11: Kimura and Fuwa  
> District 12: Sugaya and Hara
> 
> WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH, CHARACTERS ARE GOING TO DIE. I REPEAT, 23 CHARACTERS HERE ARE GOING TO DIE. SO DON’T GET HEARTBROKEN OVER YOUR FAVORITE CHARACTER DYING PLEASE AND THANK YOU.

{Nagisa’s Perspective}  
{The Bloodbath}  
{24 Tributes Alive}

The blinding light streamed down onto the tributes with harsh rays, the daunting light adding to the atmospheric pressure that surrounded all twenty-four that were in the arena.

The countdown started, the one thing that broke the glass of silence that encompassed the environment.

50  
49

The buzzing in Nagisa’s ears nearly drowned out the voice, and it probably would’ve if the voice hadn’t boomed and echoed through the arena, like snakes that wrapped itself around its prey, and right now, Nagisa felt like he was being hunted.

48

Nagisa focused his eyes on a backpack. His tunnel vision had locked itself on it, the adrenaline pumping through himself as his pulse beat the same tempo.

47  
46

Nagisa had watched things like this before, not like he had a choice. He remembered standing in the crowd, his legs shaking and his knee close to buckling. He remembers persevering through the exhaustion that overcame him for weeks, feeling guilty when someone had died from a disease as he silently complained about his tired thighs.

45  
44  
43

He always thought the countdown was too long, thinking about how standing on the platform for nearly a minute straight was probably a tactic. It was an overlooked tactic, since standing that long could test the person’s patience and strength to persevere. Nagisa wasn’t new to this, he’d be fine. And from the look of everyone else, they seemed as if they were also accustomed to this.

42  
41

Nagisa looked around, seeing the other kids, who were about his age. It was weird seeing everyone wearing the same thing, only differentiated by their hair colors. Some seemed anxious, others seemed ambitious. Nagisa couldn’t figure out if they were going to run away or fight.

40  
39  
38  
37

Nagisa could distinguish those that were ready to kill, judging by the way they surveyed the possible tributes and the glare they wore upon their faces. He saw the eyes of a predator and Nagisa could see the yin to their yang, who would wear the face of fear.

36

Nagisa knew not to give himself away. His face would be the first thing that the others would find. The mask he wore was indifferent. He wondered if others would see him as experienced, which would’ve been impossible.

35  
34

He felt sweat pour down his back, soaking into the jacket that stuck to his undershirt. The heat built up in his arms and made itself apparent, much to Nagisa’s discomfort.

33  
32  
31

Nagisa felt that sharp feeling course through him: that feeling of dread and fear. He felt as if he were on the wrong side of the snake, the side that would reveal all of his true emotions. He kept his composure, his mask of indifference forced onto him like the jacket he wore.

30

He began to sweat more as someone fixed his eyes on him, his golden eyes staring daggers at him. His breath quickened as he realized that the person staring at him was someone focused on the backpack. The same backpack that Nagisa wanted to go after.

29  
28

Alright. This was how he would play.

27

Nagisa knew fully well that the decision he was about to make was something impulsive, something dumb that cost the previous tributes their lives. But he felt like he would regret it if he hadn’t tried.

26  
25  
24  
23

He licked his cracked lips, running the tongue delicately over the side where the skin had exposed. He tasted the iron that seeped out as he smelled the overwhelming aroma of fresh grass. He focused all of his senses to his surroundings, noticing birds that chirped nicely in the distance, which would soon become food to whoever grabbed the bow and arrows.

22  
21

He glanced at the person who was staring at him earlier. The familiar redhead’s gaze was fixated on the bag that was mentally tugged between them. He was the top dog, the male from District 1.

20  
19  
18

He felt like nothing else mattered. He no longer noticed the black-haired girl staring down the one with purple hair and braids. He longer saw the gaze of the girls from Districts 5, 6, and 8, who stared at each other as if sending messages. He focused on the backpack, which could contain everything and nothing.

17  
16

It was like Schrodinger's Cat, the idea of the cat having two states was something almost foreign to Nagisa. But it all made sense once he saw a real-life version of it! The lightbulbs in his head that once flickered had now burned with a light brighter than stars.

15  
14  
13

Nagisa wiped the sweat that collected his forehead, swiping it away in one swoop. He hadn’t noticed the heat being so daunting as it beat on him. It had no mercy, no preference, no bias, and this was apparent to Nagisa as he knew that other tributes were sweating as well.

12  
11

Nagisa rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, stretching his soles for what could be the run of his life.

10  
9

The hologram number turned red, and Nagisa dashed away all of the thoughts that would distract him.

8  
7  
6

Nagisa could feel the sound drain out like the bottom of a shower, the buzzing in his ears singing to him. He focused on the gray backpack that laid ever-so innocently in the fresh, bug infested grass.

5  
4  
3  
2

1

The last second seemed to hang in the air like a spider on a thread, the horn sounding louder than the voice.

Nagisa dashed toward the backpack he had focused on for so long, noticing that many others had retreated to the thick forest that surrounded the Cornucopia. He saw teams working together, a group of girls and a group of guys grabbing whatever they could and rushing out. Only one grabbed a single weapon: a spear, which she had gripped into her hands like the thread of salvation. No bloodshed, yet.

His feet pounded towards the bag, noticing the redhead that had gotten closer and closer, only driving Nagisa to go faster. It was as if his life depended on the bag, which in this situation, it could. It could also be empty, a sign and a reminder that he had wasted his time and energy on something useless. Even worse, death could’ve awaited him in that gray piece of fabric that was soaked with dew.

He saw glimpses of the black-haired girl running away in fear as a taller, brown and blonde haired boy scared him away. He saw another black-haired girl snatch a mace from a purple-haired girl, having the opportunity to kill but not taking it.

They reached the backpack at the same time, their pale hands grabbing an opposite side. There was a silent tug-or-war, decorated with the grunts of frustration until he released, his hands stinging with pain.

There was no point. It wasn’t as if his life depended on getting the bag. All he did was waste his energy and strength over a backpack against someone who was clearly stronger than him.He would fend for himself. He could, and he should, his thoughts numb but distinguished as he let go. He started to run towards the forest, gripping his reddened hands. The trees started to look like a soft shield, as if he were safe in the unknown forest ahead of him.

He dived into the greenery, crashing into a shrub and covering himself with leaves and twigs. He rolled forward, distributing the pain and continuing the momentum, whirling his head around for a shelter or hiding space. He locked eyes onto a nearby tree, the height enough to get him out of sight.

He grabbed onto a nearby branch, hissing as his hands met splinters, the little dots of red dotting his palms as he pulled his body up the tree. He scampered up the chocolate-colored tree, swinging his legs over an adjacent branch to lie down and rest, of course, after surveying the area.

He saw the redhead gripping the backpack in his hands and running in roughly the same direction as Nagisa did. However, it seemed like he didn’t want to hunt him down. Nagisa sighed as he sunk into the rough bark of the strong branches, deciding that he would catch his breath as the sun beat down on his tanned skin.

{Rio’s Perspective}  
{Day One}  
{24 Tributes Alive}

Rio brushed her yellow, sweat-slicked hair to the side as she trudged through the humid growth. She had long taken the jacket off, wondering why it was even a part of their outfit in the first place.

She narrowly avoided the teams of people that had the sole purpose of hunting down tributes and witnessed four people, three girls and a guy, raid another guy’s camp while he was away. The look of disdain on his face when he came back, Rio almost felt bad.

She spotted her district male, Karma, walking around with four others, three guys and a guy. Judging by their conversations and pointed fingers, Rio knew that they were also hunting down tributes. She decided not to stay any longer.

She watched as two girls received packages from sponsors, the flame of jealousy burning bright inside her. It wasn’t like she couldn’t survive on her own, she just thought that she would feel accomplished and better if she got a package. She watched as one rejoiced over clean water and the other, medical supplies. Both very crucial things.

She looked at the water, pooling it in her hands and wondering if it was safe. But the thirst in her throat was too fiery, and she found herself drinking until she was satisfied. So far, nothing bad seemed to happen.

She watched the male from District 6 scare off the girl from District 11, chasing her until he decided to stop. Rio wondered why he stopped. Clearly, he was about to catch her. Was he feeling sympathetic? Rio scoffed: what a dangerous action.

She hid behind a tree and saw the male and female from District 3 interacting. The girl was about to attack the boy, until she got distracted long enough for the boy to run away, his strawberry-blonde hair streaking through the greenery. The girl shrieked and started to run after him, but to no avail.

Rio had to move once a girl had gotten quite close to where she drank the water, trying to catch fish with a trident. Rio had always thought the tridents were useless: they were big, hard to carry, and quite heavy. Not to mention, they don’t throw very far. And by the looks of the girl, it seemed like the trident wasn’t very useful for catching fish either.

At one point, Rio had to run away from a tribute hunter, who was working alone. She eventually made enough turns to make the other girl give up. The other girl was from District 10, and Rio was quite surprised that she had chased her for so long.

Rio whirled her head around, trying to figure out where she was. She didn’t think about where she was, only thinking about running away from the threat. But now, it seemed like she was in a danger zone.

She felt someone collapse behind her, whirling her head around to see a green-haired girl on the ground and barely breathing. She was from District 2, the district under her. Rio’s instinct almost made her try to save the girl, but the pressure of the game had pulled her back.

She had to win. It didn’t matter if this girl was human, so was she. She had to survive, and if this girl dies because she decided to skip meals before the Games, it’s her fault. Besides, Rio didn’t have food and didn’t see any food that a passed-out person would eat.

She laid two fingers on her neck, feeling no pulse as the cannon sounded the time of her death. She ran further away from the body, the grass crunching under her feet in an alarming volume.

As she ran, she could momentarily hear the swish of an arrow growing closer. She turned her head to avoid it, but it was too late. The tip had dug itself into her temple.

She collapsed, the arrow fletching pointing upwards. She could momentarily see her killer through the pain, the District 7 male. She couldn’t remember his name, not like she tried to anyways.

Rio gave up, succumbing to the pain as her twitching fingers calmed and her heart slowed to a stop. She could almost hear the cannon sound before it even sounded.

{Gakushuu’s Perspective}  
{Night One}

The night didn’t provide any break from the heat, the air almost still and vacant. Gakushuu had wondered if the jacket would provide any use, but so far it hadn’t. He thought the nights would be cold, but it was quite the opposite. Gakushuu still sweated profusely, his water source slowly draining.

He saw two names flash on the sky, the girls from Districts 1 and 2 dead.

He stays silent as he hears groups of people singing songs cheerfully and sleeping in shifts. He witnessed the male from District 9 trying to sing himself to sleep, but his widened eyes of fear did quite the opposite. On the other side of Gakushuu’s vision, he saw the male from District 8 fall asleep.

He overheard discussions between two guys and a girl, who wondered what would happen the next morning. He heard the victory chants of people destroying other people’s supplies as the victim lies asleep. He watched as a male, who shot the arrow into a District 2 girls’ head, awake due to nightmares. It wasn’t like Gakushuu could read his mind, but the boy seemed to wear a face of terror and rapid breathing. He saw another boy (from District 4, he believes) rock himself back and forth without a hint of sleeping.

Gakushuu trudged silently through the forest. The bark on the trees were quite rough and left little wounds on his hands. He examined his hands in the moonlight, the scabs contrasting against his pale skin.

He heard shuffling ahead of him and hid behind a bush. Peeking through the leaves, he sees another girl hiding and staring at a particular direction. When Gakushuu looks in the same direction, he sees a bright fire crackling. Ah, he thought, she must be hiding from the owner of that fire.

Owner. What a laughable thought. No one in the arena owned anything. They were all pawns in a big, fun game that the Gamemakers made.

He heard a twig crack and Gakushuu went on alert mode, noticing a girl running towards him with a knife. Gakushuu sprinted over the bush and straight to the side. The girl who was hiding was already long gone.

Gakushuu didn’t think he’d be the one to get chased, his thoughts running wild. He grabbed the jacket around his waist, reaching into the inner pocket (something he had discovered long ago) and pulled out a knife. It was ordinary, something that wasn’t very outstanding in appearance, but the blade was sharp and durable.

He swung his whole body around (much to the surprise of the girl) and started to go on the offense. The girl from District 6 wasn’t attacking without strategy, each strike almost hitting him had his reflexes not been sharpened.

The strawberry blonde was glad that he trained his reflexes during that period of training. Otherwise, he probably would’ve been stabbed a long time ago.

He noticed himself backing up against a cliff, his senses freaking out. He tried to go to the side, only to be blocked by a swift hand. He panicked and tried to duck and roll to the side, which succeeded until the girl caught up to him.

Both parties refused to speak a word as their orange hair flew around frantically. The night was silent and tributes were swarming the forest. The last thing that Gakushuu probably wanted was a third party joining the fun.

The cliff edge seemed to grow closer and closer, Gakushuu escaping the girl as she tried to push him off the cliff. Their knives clashed to make a cacophony of sounds, the scraping and clangs almost in rhythm. Gakushuu felt his upper arms sting in pain, but he persevered through the burning sensation.

On the other hand, the girl seemed to be quite comfortable, showing no signs of exhaustion or pain, which nearly scared Gakushuu. But he decided that the most important thing was survival.

And as if a miracle happened, Gakushuu managed to swing the girl over to the cliff edge and attempted to push her off. He made a choice to break for it, trying to run away into the forest’s almost-safety. 

But he felt a small hand grip his shirt and pull him in the opposite direction. He tried to grab for the air, but he arced over the girl so fast that there was nothing to grab. He felt two feet plant itself onto his back and kick him in the air, outwards.

And after what seemed like a split second of hovering, he felt air rush past him as he plummeted to the ground.

“So this is how I die.”

As soon as he met the ground below, he blacked out, bones cracking and limbs going slack.

He chuckled his last breath away in pain, “The world’s going to shit.”

{Itona’s Perspective}  
{Day Two}  
{22 Tributes Alive}

Itona had teamed up with Kirara and Isogai, the female from his District and the male from District 9. He didn’t particularly choose the team persay: it was more like they mutually decided to not kill each other. He didn’t mind since his dignity wouldn’t be a problem in the Games.

They had close encounters with people who were hunting tributes, witnessing the deaths of the male from District 2 and the girl from District 12. Two very different Districts and backgrounds, but quite the same death. They were unable to convince their killer to spare them, the punishment? Death, the usual punishment in the Hunger Games.

Itona saw the male from District 11 receive a weapon: a hatchet. The girl from District 4 had received an explosive and Itona could almost hear the cogs in her head spinning. He saw the wave of delight overcome her body as she spun it around in her hand, much like the boy with the hatchet.

Kirara had silently pointed to the male from District 12 cupping his hands over a sprained ankle that he earned from escaping pursuit, hissing in pain while keeping his voice down. Earlier, she had discovered the girl from District 8 questioning her sanity, rocking herself back and forth on the wetted ground and muttering to herself.

Isogai had seen people from both worlds: the ones that laid back and the ones that wanted to go on the offensive. He had seen the supply gatherers: a girl fishing and a boy searching for firewood to use the next night. He had also seen the more aggressive ones, watching as a boy practiced his archery and another boy hunted for tributes. While he didn’t seem like much at first, he had killed the girl from District 1, the highest District besides the Capitol.

Earlier, Itona had seen a District 10 boy steal from the District 6 boy. Itona knew that the number of your District meant close to nothing in the Games. One year, a District 1 person would’ve won, and the next, the District 12 person would wear the Victor’s crown. He didn’t care for the numbers that dictated his life. He had no choice: even if he moved to District 1 or even to the Capitol, he would still be the boy from District 5. And since he already accepted that label long ago, he decided that it wouldn’t be something that lingered in his subconscious mind for too long.

Itona, Isogai, and Kirara walked around the forest, avoiding any possible tributes until they heard a rustle from above. At first, they thought it was a squirrel, seeing that it would disappear when they tried to hunt it down for food. Later, they thought the sounds came from birds, the possibilities were endless. Itona didn’t question the sounds too much until he heard a branch groan under a weight, a weight that would approximate a human or two.

Itona’s breath hitched as he swung his head upwards and saw three flashes of color zoom down to the ground. They soon were revealed to be the girls from Districts 10 and 11, led by the male from District 1. Just their luck. Even though the numbers didn’t really matter, having the male from District 1 encounter them wasn’t something to brush off.

The opposing girls flanked to their side, corralling them into the middle. Isogai and Kirara had already drawn their knives and weapons, attempting to create an opening to escape through. But they had blocked so effortlessly, the grin of dominating delight painted on their faces.

Itona licked his lips anxiously, head spinning in a panic as he tried to look for even the smallest way to escape. But they had locked their defense up tightly, the slimmest of chances eliminated. They closed in, weapons bared like fangs, and the only sense that Itona felt was pain, the sound of two cannons, and the sweet release.

{Ren’s Perspective}  
{Night Two}  
{16 Tributes Alive}

Ren pushed his hair back up to the top of his head, the stray strands blocking his vision in ways that he didn’t know was possible. He eventually found a little stream hidden among the poisonous berries and bushes, using minimal water to dampen his hair and pin it to place. It worked nicely, his face exposed to the cooling wind.

He had heard the oh-so-familiar cannons go off in the distance, signaling more deaths and giving him a higher chance to win. He was pumped: not only did he survive two days, he would survive another night. He was sure of it. Not a doubt in his mind. He could almost feel the Victor’s crown perched upon his head.

Ren had swiped a hand across his face, attempting to get dirt off his face. It was starting to dry and it was making his face stiff and uncomfortable. After scraping off the remaining dirt, he kept walking around as the night overcame the day.

He heard the familiar song play, whirling his head up to the sky to see who was gone.

Both tributes from District 5 were dead. The males from District 2, 3, and 9 were gone as well. A girl from District 12 had passed as well.

Ren smiled wickedly, feeling almost guilty about this, but still smiling. He had a chance to survive. He could almost feel the weight of the golden Victor's crown on his head.

He climbed a tree, ignoring the splinters that stung his palms, and surveyed the area. He saw two groups of two people talking in the distance, and as he heard his own name, he realized that they were talking about the remaining survivors. Ren watches as the boy from District 11 falls asleep peacefully while the boy from District 4 cries himself to sleep. Pathetic, he thought.

He spotted the boy from District 1, the infamous killer. The ones from District 1 have been trained to do two things in the Games: kill and survive. Recalling the past Victors, Ren figured that District 1 would almost run out of possible tributes. But looking at this District 1 male tribute, Ren noticed that he was muttering to himself, almost as if he were scared or out of it. Ren infers that he must be questioning his sanity, given the few words that Ren could pick up.

Bright red hair. What a pain. Ren was surprised the boy hadn’t been targeted yet. Bright red hair in a sea of dark green. They were so opposing that Ren could almost laugh.

Ren had later watched the girl from District 8 hunting down the girl from District 10. The fear that pounded through the forest was probably what killed the District 10 girl, the cannon echoing through the arena. He saw the District 8 girl trembling as she dropped down to her knees and started to sob.

Crying? She had just hunted and killed another person and now she was questioning herself? Ren wondered if she was blackmailed into doing so. But as he watched on, Ren concluded that she had just felt guilt about killing a human being.

Ren could almost scoff at himself. Human beings? They weren’t human beings anymore in this arena. They were mutts, feral and unleashed into a forest to hunt and kill and survive. They were pawns in a textbook gladiator arena. Only the arena here wasn’t like the barren gravel and flying dust that described the gladiator arenas a long time ago.

As he spotted the District 9 girl destroy the District 12’s meager supplies, he felt the breath get knocked out of him, like a bullet. When he turned to face his attacker, he saw the messy purple hair of the District 4 girl. Ren was quite shocked. She, Okuda (Ren had just remembered her name), was quite beautiful during the chariot ride. Ren could barely believe that this was the same girl.

Okuda grabbed Ren by the hair and dragged him down the tree, hitting the ground softly. Ren, on the other hand, had suffered from more bruises and cuts than he’d like to imagine.

Okuda drags Ren over to a tree, where he spots another tribute, tied up against the tree. For once in a long time, Ren hears the clear and distinct voice of his attacker, “Stop struggling, or I’ll stab you myself.”

Ren wasn’t making noise (the other tribute was, in a desperate attempt to escape), but he held his breath and refused to make a sound. He didn’t want to be stabbed, he wanted to survive long enough to see home again.

Okuda had quickly tied up Ren next to the other tribute, who he identified as the male from District 6. The long black hairs covered his eyes, and Ren felt jealous that he could see through masses of hair while he himself couldn’t stand one.

Okuda spoke again, to the girl from District 11, “Choose one or the other.” Okuda had pointed the tip of a blade against the girl’s back, threatening to rip through much more than her undershirt and jacket.

The girl gulped visibly, the small knife in her hand trembling. Ren noticed beads of tears dotting the corner of her eyes and her jaw shaking ever-so slightly. Ren nearly felt bad, catching himself when he noticed that the girl had already pointed the knife towards his neck.

“Ren, I’m so sorry.” Ren’s last thought flashed through his head as the blade cut through: at least his image would be flashed across the sky like a flag of glory.

{Takebayashi’s Perspective}  
{Day Three}  
{14 Tributes Alive}

Takebayashi gripped his bar mace tightly, wrapping his sore fingers around the dark gray, cloth-wrapped handle. It was still clean, and Takebayashi hoped that it would still be clean.

He pushed his glasses back up his sweat-caked nose, breathing heavily. He hadn’t found water since the first day, his throat parched and needy. He slid his bow and arrow set back up his shoulder and continued to tread through the thick growth, pushing past shrubs and low-hanging branches.

Takebayashi narrowly avoids the five-person pack of tributes that bore their shiny weapons under the sun, dominance emanated from them. It was like watching a pack of wolves going to hunt, the metal on their blades shining in the heat.

He saw a black-haired girl eavesdrop on the boy from District 1 talking to the boy from District 11. Two very different places on the hierarchy. Takebayashi began to question the labeling of Districts. They didn’t matter here, but in a way, they did. It indicated professionalism, skill, talent, and knowledge. Yet here they are, representatives from opposite Districts, chatting in the distance.

Takebayashi watched two people split up to find resources, knowing that they’d be enemies again in the near future. He watches as the girl from District 7 falls asleep on a prickly tree, the splinters infamous around the arena.

He was careful to avoid the crunching noises from other tributes, witnessing the boy from District 8 receive a canister of fresh water. Lucky him, Takebayashi thought as he licked his dry lips. He took a step towards the blonde, his goal? Obtain clean water successfully.

And as if a flash of lightning showed itself in front of him, someone had jumped out from behind a tree and started to swing a knife around. Upon slower and closer observation, Takebayashi noticed that this was the girl from District 11. And as he blocked each swipe of her knife, he noticed dried blood on the blade. Great.

Takebayashi put his full force into maintaining balance while making sure that he wouldn’t get harmed. After a bunch of taunts and blocks, Takebayashi managed to put the girl in a weak position and pushed her away, towards the ground. He pressed the dull side of the bar mace against her neck delicately, his foot on her wrist. He twisted his foot, making her release the knife as he kicked it far away. He pressed his whole body weight onto her, making sure that she would have little to no chance of escape.

She groaned, croaking her voice against the weapon, “Bash my head in already. I’m sick of life already.”

Takebayashi faltered a bit, feeling the girl go slack, as if giving up. He gritted his teeth, twitching, “So you’re going to let this stupid system get to you?”

He lifted himself off, walking towards the knife. She sat up, dazed and confused, “Huh?”

“I said,” he pushed his glasses up his nose, “If you really hate your life so much, figure out who’s making you so miserable. It’s the Hunger Games system right? This hierarchy of Districts and tributes, the bloodshed and tears and vomit, this is what sickens you, correct? So don’t kill yourself just because you can’t handle it.”

Takebayashi picked up the small knife, twirling it in his fingers, “I’ll take this as payment for not killing you. In the meantime,” he shot a glare at the girl, “Toughen up if you really want to beat the system.”

{Karma’s Perspective}  
{Night Three}  
{14 Tributes Alive}

The sun waned as the sky turned from blue to orange to deep purple. Karma thought that even this simulated sky was prettier than the ones he saw at home.

He had just sniggered in silence as he saw the girl from District 7 attempt to start a fire for cooking and fail as the girl from District 3 succeeded, earning herself some roasted lizard.

The twinkle of the stars washed over the forest as the images flashed into the sky: the boy from District 7 and the girl from 10. Karma smiled: two less tributes.

He heard the lovely cadence of sponsor packages in the distance, watching a girl receive water and another girl receive medical supplies. His smile faded as he saw them rejoice.

He had scoffed when his eyes saw a orange-haired girl being welcomed into the shelter of another tribute, her eyes shining with delight. He swung his legs over to a larger branch that hung nearby, using his jacket to shield him from the splinters.

Quite a distance away, Karma heard the soft plop from one of the tributes that had passed out. Karma figured it was from exhaustion, which was the reason why he didn’t try to claim a kill. He observes a male tribute setting up camp for the night, laughing at the inexperienced outcome.

The redhead soon fell asleep on the branch as he listened to the conversation of a nearby group assigning times. They would sleep in shifts for the night, all five of them. The boy whose bangs covered his eyes had volunteered to go first, the other four lying down in the grass using their jackets as a pillow.

At first, Karma saw only darkness, which was normal. His senses soon started to fade as he entered the dreamland: a place of wonder and an utopian-like environment. Karma would’ve scoffed at the idea of a peaceful, worry-less life had he not been enchanted by the stillness and lack of conflict.

Nothing in his dream seemed to be solid, each object warping into each other and merging into a different thing. But one thing was the same: the peacefulness and the bright pastel colors.

Everything seemed to go well until it didn’t. A black mass had formed from the sky, chasing him down a meadow. The meadow had formed into trees, the overgrowth covering all possible sunlight. Yet, the mass hadn’t stopped. It only got closer and closer, and Karma couldn’t seem to run faster than he already was.

Karma jolted awake as the mass engulfed itself around him, grateful for the rope that tied him to the branch. His senses flitted back to normal, his brain still quite shocked from the terrifying inky mass that threatened to consume him in his dream.

And Karma thought he couldn’t sweat more. He flicked his damp hand into the air, sending droplets flying. His shirt held the odor of lingering smells, his forehead dripping and his neck a lake. He found it disgusting and moved branches, thinking about the nightmare.

What did it mean? What did it resemble? He thought long and hard about his, not noticing the sun peeking through the dense mass of trees, greeting a warm and daunting morning.

{Hinano’s Perspective}  
{Day Four}  
{14 Tributes Alive}

Hinano hadn’t expected to team up with three other tributes to raid a camp. In fact, she least expected this to happen, chills going up her spine as she recalled being scared out of her wits. 

“Wait-wait! Please!”

“Ah, don’t worry. We were just looking for you.” The girl from District 6 had spoken to her first, “Besides, why are you so scared? You literally formed a team to hunt tributes and chased people around.”

Hinano had relaxed a bit, still gripping the machete she had stolen off of a body, “It’s a lot scarier when you’re the victim. Besides, what are you keeping me alive for?”

She had smiled, showing her whitened teeth, “I’ve watched for a while. You can look at any type of terrain and navigate it like a champion. Not only that, but you even know where to find food and supplies and we’ve only been here for a short amount of time. It’s how you chased that boy from District 12 down a ditch and sprained his ankle. You knew it was there already.”

Hinano had scoffed, “I could’ve found that ditch before. You have an ulterior motive and are trying to coax me into your team, aren’t you?”

“It’s working though, isn’t it?”

Hinano didn’t want to be swayed by this girl, but she lost all of her dignity and pride as soon as she entered the arena, and she valued her life the most, “Yeah, you’re right.”

She swallowed her spit as she walked alongside the other three, composed of the males from District 4 and 10 as well as the girl that had convinced her to join their team. She wasn’t sure why they chose her (surely it can’t be because they believe that she knows all about the terrain?), but she was grateful that they didn’t decide to kill her.

She looked around, spotting a boy picking flowers, who she identified as the one who sprained his ankle running from her. She started to question herself, wondering if the boy’s ankle was feeling a bit better. 

Hinano shook her head, dismissing the thought. Of course not, it’s only been a few days. Hinano had to resist the urge to attack the boy again.

Why? She had other things on her mind and she didn’t want to ruin it for the team. Not because she wanted the best for the group, but because she was afraid that her action would cost her her life. It was something that wasn’t in the plan and the key point in their plan was keeping a low profile. Besides, the boy ran faster than her, and she wouldn’t know where she’d end up. She decided to busy her mind with more recollections of earlier.

“Raid a camp? Why?”

The boy from District 4 spoke up, “We’re low on food and water and a little birdie told us that the girl from 8 has just that.”

“There’s a nearby river and there’s lizards swarming the forest.”

“Someone poisoned the water sources and we don’t have the tools to catch lizards. Plus, we get to possibly eliminate a tribute, or least come close to doing so.”

Hinano had hesitated, but went along with it, thinking that their logic was pretty solid for three teenagers in a life or death arena.

They passed by a river that the girl from District 4 had found, watching her scamper away up a tree and disappear into the leaves. They walked past it, skipping stones into the water and introducing themselves.

Sugino had talked about finding two tributes split up to search for resources: the boy from District 1 and the girl from District 11. He had talked about the many circumstances where tributes from the opposite Districts had teamed up to help each other. Hayami had stayed quiet, biting her lip.

After a while of walking and searching for a camp to raid, they nearly encountered another raider group, four tributes who had swept nearly a quarter of the forest.

“Over there.” Sugino pointed toward a clear patch of grass in the dense forest, the sun shining its ray harshly onto the manmade camp that lay in the middle. Hinano surveyed the surroundings: nothing in sight.

She had already locked her eyes on the bag of apples that laid on the tribute’s jacket, warming up her legs to run.

And with Hayami’s cue, they had dashed towards the camp silently, grabbing whatever was in sight and sprinting for the trees. Hinano had grabbed the bag of apples and a net, which would be used to catch tributes. She had gulped in panic when she saw that Hayami was gripping a scalpel chain, a whip-like weapon with spikes and blades running down the rope. Hayami had swung a bag of meat around her shoulder and was the last to leave.

Far, far away, they had laid out their haul, marveling at the variety and usefulness of items, “I don’t think I’ve eaten an apple in years.” Hayami had marveled as she held a bright red apple in her hands.

Hinano watched as Hayami smiled softly, looking at the shiny apple in her palm. What a transformation, Hinano thought. One minute, she held the aura of dominance and intensity, the next, she was smiling because of an apple. Still conscious of the dangerous chain that Hayami kept by her side, Hinano relaxed a bit as she bit into an apple.

She smiled at the sweetness, “Ah, I haven’t eaten in days.”

Takebayashi had eaten a couple of bread rolls while Sugino ripped off a piece of dried jerky. It was like a sweaty picnic, their thoughts of death and bloodshed muffled by the smell of food.

They had eaten their fill, distributing the food, weapons, and supplies. Among the things that Hinano had gotten, she received a thin blanket, rubbing alcohol, a half-filled water bottle, and a sickle.

“Hey, 9, catch.” Hayami tossed her a singular, clean apple, “For good measure.”

As they parted ways, Hinano tossed everything in her backpack and armed herself with the sickle, waving it around in the air for practice. As it turns out, the raid went quite smoothly, witnessing the girl return and find half of her stuff gone. Hinano watched her emotions switch from distress to acceptance, barely hearing her muttering under her breath.

Hinano examined the sharp sickle. Why had she been given such a weapon? This was the Hunger Games: weapons were crucial. She figured that it was so that no one would be targeted out of jealousy, but even that made no sense. Everyone was a target (she was surprised that no one died when they were walking as a group) and everyone was dangerous and armed.

She used the sickle to clear a path for her to explore further, walking past the ditch where she had chased the boy into. She stared at the river, the calm streams of water innocently flowing past her.

She figured that everyone had a heart though. Under different circumstances, Hinano felt as if they could’ve been great friends.

She sighed, examining the sickle and thinking about Hayami’s new scalpel chain, “But this is the Hunger Games.” she muttered.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾ 

Death Tally

Kayano dies from hunger.

Ren shoots an arrow into Rio’s head.

Hayami pushes Gakushuu off a cliff during a knife fight.

Nagisa is unable to convince Kaho not to kill him.

Hara is unable to convince Hayami not to kill her.

Isogai, Ritsu, and Itona are killed in an ambush by Karma, Fuwa, and Kanzaki.

Okuda forces Fuwa to kill Chiba or Ren. She decides to kill Ren.

Yada tracks down and kills Kanzaki.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾ 

{Chiba’s Perspective}  
{Night Four}  
{14 Tributes Alive}

Chiba wasn’t too fond of walking around with sore feet. In fact, he had run away from three tributes setting up camp and wasn’t too happy that he nearly ran into two girls receiving water and supplies from sponsors. He ran past the girl singing herself to sleep and two tributes snuggling together despite the heat.

He mutually ignored the tribute that had lost sight of where he was and avoided the tribute that was tending to his wounds. He watched as a girl spots a fire but stays put, not wanting to pursue the owner. He considered helping a girl who was failing at making a fire, but his knees were close to buckling under his own exhaustion.

Thankfully for him, he found an unoccupied cave that was hidden under the thick greenery, camouflaged by the tall grass. Chiba felt heat collect under his bangs, ignoring the sweat that collected on his skin as he cleared the cave out for the night, cautious of the stinging nettle that grew.

As the night settled over the arena, he laid out his portion of the haul. He had raided a camp that belonged to the District 11 male and dashed away from the others as soon as the sky started to turn pink. The others did the same. There was no equal distribution: they grabbed whatever they wanted and left immediately without any other words. Chiba was happy that they didn’t discuss their haul together: he’d rather keep his supplies secretive.

He hadn’t had much downtime to look at his supplies, so when he finally cleared out an area, he laid down his backpack on the ground and dumped everything out.

He had first pulled out a sleeping bag, slightly crinkled but unused, followed by a bundle of rope. Putting these aside, he surfaced a coil of copper wire and a bag of nuts.

He pulled out the last object: a kukri. Chiba was somewhat familiar with the knife, running a delicate finger along the sharp blade that curved out and down--it was as if a kitchen knife was melted and pulled downwards. Chiba stored the sleeping bag, rope, and wire back into the backpack, keeping the kukri by his side in case anyone threatened him during the night.

He massaged his sore calves, wincing as he reached the spot where it hurt the most. He exhaled slowly, trying to calm his nerves, sighing as he felt his calf relax.

“Sounds like someone’s in a spa, where are the cucumbers?”

Chiba had grabbed the kukri and swung it at the intruder, who leapt backwards, unsheathing a scalpel chain. He hesitated as he looked up to see the female tribute from his District, Hayami.

She frowned, withdrawing the scalpel chain as it clanged against the stone floor, “What a way to greet your friend.”

Chiba immediately withdrew his weapon, his face nearly paling. Hayami noticed this, dropped down to her knees, “You’re as white as snow, do you need food?”

Chiba was stunned speechless by her character development. She used to be very reserved, but as he saw the girl scramble around her bag for food, he noticed how much she had changed.

Hayami threw an apple at him, “I figure you'd like it sweet.” Chiba had caught the apple with ease. He was overjoyed that it wasn’t someone that would’ve killed him without hesitation, biting into the fruit in his hand.

“Long time no see, huh? It’s been four days? What a contrast compared to the apartment we shared before this.” Hayami thought for a bit, “I was always training, wasn’t I? Even though the training deck was closed, I’d still swing around an ornament. That statuette of the falcon was a pretty good training weapon.”

“Remember when we were still at home and you’d always be reading books about the Hunger Games?”

Hayami looked at her feet, sliding down to sit next to Chiba, “Ah yes, those were decent books. I learned next to nothing from them though, since they were mostly anecdotes about previous Games.” She chuckled softly, placing a fist on her mouth in an attempt to muffle the sounds.

“Oh yeah,” Chiba smiled, “I remember you told me about those stories, how you were so excited to tell me about strategies and stuff."

Hayami sighed with a smile, brushing her hair down, “If I sleep here, you won’t kill me, right? Not...yet, at least?”

Chiba’s breath hitched, “No, of course not! You gave me food and…” he stared at the half-eaten apple in his hand, “...it wouldn’t sit well with me to kill you now.”

“Great,” Hayami yawned, “I didn’t feel like finding another shelter anyways.”

She stared at the opposite cave wall intensely, “Did you learn anything from the training period we had?”

Chiba took another bite of the apple, “How to use a knife. It was sort of cool to learn how to punch efficiently. Oh, I learned how to make a tourniquet for intensive bleeding!”

Hayami smiled, “Let’s hope you don’t need to use that skill.”

“Ah, that would be ideal, but it’s still useful to learn.”

The stars floated over the moonlit arena as they chatted on, still fully aware of other tributes being able to walk in. But nevertheless, they talked and talked, ignoring the fact that death was eminent.

Hayami looked outside, “Ah, it must be getting late. Shall we sleep now?”

Chiba fumbled around in his backpack for a bit, “Wait, I want to give you something.”

Hayami tried to peek over Chiba’s shoulder, but figured that she would keep it a surprise and closed her eyes.

Chiba awkwardly poked Hayami’s shoulder to get her attention, “Hey, can I see that scary chain thing you have?”

“My scalpel chain?” Hayami questioned, “...why?”

“Trust me, I’m not going to attack you. Here, you can have this if you feel too scared about me having your weapon.” Chiba stuck out the kukri, the handle pointing towards her. She stuck out a thin hand and grasped the weapon, feeling the weight of the blade when Chiba released and turned his back to face away from her, “Don’t break it, okay?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything that isn’t to your liking.” Chiba reassured her.

Hayami had shuffled around in the awkward silence until Chiba turned back around and stuck out the handle of the scalpel chain, “Here you go.”

They swapped weapons, Chiba turning around to do something to his own weapon, but quicker this time, “Do you like it?”

Hayami was marveling at the little keychain that Chiba had put on the end of the handle. It was metal, the colors seemingly painted into the ornament, “Is this a carnation?”

She answered her own question in her head, using her extensive knowledge of flowers. It was a pink carnation, and a two-toned carnation was on the back of it, the swirling colors of cream and pink mesmerizing her, “They say flowers have meaning, right?”

Chiba had gulped, “Ah, yeah.”

Hayami chuckled, “Ah, it’s been so long that I’ve forgotten most meanings. Unfortunately, carnations happen to be one of them.”

Chiba seemed to sag a bit, looking at the ground between his feet, “Ah, that’s unfortunate.”

“What about you? You put something on that knife, right?”

Chiba showed her the keychain he had given himself, a red rose, “It’s a kukri, a type of Nepalian knife. And, I gave myself a rose.”

“Why a rose?”

Chiba nearly stuttered a bit, “Oh-I...it was the only other flower keychain that was available…”

“I see. How did your stylist approve of you bringing it?”

“He cleared it with the President. They just told me not to kill anyone with it.”

“I see.” Hayami held up the scalpel chain handle to her face, admiring the flower, “It’s very pretty. Thank you.”

“Oh, it’s no problem.” Chiba smiled weakly, “It’s getting late now, and I don’t have anymore surprises. Shall we sleep now?”

Hayami had already scooted herself down to the ground, using her jacket as a pillow, “Mm, yeah. I figured that it’s time to get some shut-eye.”

And even though it was Hayami who wanted to sleep first, Chiba had caught her smiling at the keychain that hung from the end of her scalpel chain, a delicate plant that hung from such a dangerous item. Chiba looked up at the ceiling of the cave, “When you win, promise me that you’ll bring both of our keychains back with you.”

“‘When’?” Hayami muttered from the ground, sitting up, “You mean ‘if’, right?”

Chiba gulped, “Alright, ‘if’ you win the Games, promise me that you’ll bring both of our keychains back with you.”

Hayami sighed sadly, “You…” at a loss for words, she mumbled, “Alright. If you win though, promise that you’ll bring both of our keychains back with you.”

Chiba smiled sadly, facing the girl next to him, “Yeah, if I win, I will.”

Hayami swallowed her spit, awkwardly shuffling in place, “Let’s...let’s not think about this right now and go to sleep.”

Chiba closed his eyes, “Of course.”

{Megu’s Perspective}  
{Day Five}  
{14 Tributes Alive}

The blinding sunlight had taken quite a toll on Megu as she scoured the terrain with squinted eyes.

It had been a long time since the last cannon shot was heard. No one had seemed to die yet, no images flashed in the sky last night. She figured that the Gamemakers would get mad soon and unleash some disgusting horror to the arena, and she did not want to have to put up with that.

She had already heard two groups scheme to raid other tributes camps and wanted to stay at hers for a while to defend it, but soon realized that she didn’t have much for people to steal besides an empty waterskin and a couple of nuts.

She figured that she would try to appease the Gamemakers, grabbing the males from District 6 and 10, Chiba and Sugino respectively, to hunt for tributes. They were the closest ones to her that had weapons and they weren’t doing anything at the moment. They also didn’t seem to protest when they saw that she was slowly reaching for her sai while talking.

Sugino sighed, “Look, I’ve been walking around all night, can’t we just take a break for a little bit?”

“Don’t forget that I could’ve stabbed you by now.”

“Don’t forget that my spear is longer than your sai.” Sugino snapped back.

Megu laughed, “What a transformation, I thought you said in your interview that you liked to make friends?”

“I could say the same for you,” Sugino shuffled a bit, “I like to make friends when they aren’t threatening my eyeballs with a fancy needle thingy. Kinda like Chiba over here. He hasn’t attacked me yet.”

Megu sighed, “We’re supposed to be hunting tributes right now, not bickering over our introductions.”

Chiba spoke up, “Who are we looking for anyways?”

Megu hummed, “Well, there’s two groups of four that are working together, so not them. The male from District 1 is alone and fishing. The tributes from District 11 are hunting together, so maybe we can go after them as well.” Megu stuck up three fingers over her shoulder, “That gives us three targets, it should be plenty to appease the Gamemakers.”

Chiba seemed to sigh in relief, but Sugino perked up at the high positioned title, “Gamemakers? Why are you so concerned about them? They’re always out to kill us, why now?”

Megu sighed, shoulders sagging, “You know how no one has died yet in a full day? Well, the Gamemakers want this to be interesting, so they’ll probably unleash some unholy event onto us, like fire rain or mutts.” She turned to face the two males, “We aren’t human to them. We just so happen to have money placed on our heads so that the people in the Capitol are happy and drunk and in Cloud 9.”

She turned back around, “Since I don’t wanna be on the wrong side of their commands, I suggest that you keep looking for possible victims. As much as I don’t want to kill people,” She looked down at the ground, “we don’t really have much of a choice if we don’t want to get killed.”

Megu continued to walk around, avoiding the group of tributes that had congregated near a tree. Upon closer inspection, she noticed that it consisted of the females from District 3, 6 and 8 as well as the male from District 12. She wondered if they cared that their Districts were quite ranged, going from the advanced technology of District 3 to the slums of District 12.

She continued trekking through the forest. Although they were looking for three out of the eleven other tributes, the arena was so dense that they felt as if it was impossible to find anyone except for the groups of tributes that they didn’t want to run into.

Just their luck, they nearly ran into the second raider group, consisting of the females from District 4 and 9 as well as the males from 4 and 8. Megu knew about the tributes from District 4: they hailed from one of the three Career Districts and despite coming from the fishing district, they were quite proficient in science and strategies. If their title as Careers didn’t scare anyone, their intelligence would. They had both scored 10 in their training scores, the highest out of this year’s tributes.

Megu knew that the tributes from District 4 would’ve probably realized that they have a target painted on their backs in bright, neon red. The Gamemakers probably wanted someone to be targeted, for a fun watching experience. Megu could hide in the back with her 6 safely.

The sun moved across the sky as they walked around in random movements, sometimes passing by the same tree or rock. Sugino was exasperated, “Are you sure you want to hunt tributes or are you just waiting for us to pass out from exhaustion?”

Megu leaned against a tree, “They must be hiding or something.”

Chiba massaged his legs, “Of all the people you chose to be in a hunting team with, you chose the two tributes with sore legs. I had to run all day yesterday and Sugino got lost and walked around all night.”

Megu’s shoulders sagged, “How do you even get lost when you don’t even have a base-ah, whatever.” she looked up at the sky, “These bastards are probably scheming something up there in their velvet penthouses and green wine while we sit here in this dome of dirt eating lizards.”

“It’s getting late,” Chiba noted, “How about we separate here?”

As much as Megu hated to walk, she knew that staying in a group together would ultimately kill them. Besides, she’d rather work independently, “Alright. I’ll see you guys in the afterlife.”

Sugino and Chiba’s breaths had hitched, the realization that they were probably going to die settling in. They nodded before leaving. Megu crossed her arms, swinging her head back behind her shoulders and picking out a tree to camp in for the night.

{Sugino’s Perspective}  
{Night Five}  
{14 Tributes Alive}

After Megu had ditched him and Chiba in the middle of nowhere, he had walked more, torturing himself. He watched the sky change from pink to orange, the darkness starting to encapsulate the arena. The musky smell of leaves filled the air as he ran a hand through his bangs out of habit.

The grass crunched under his boots as he looked around for a place stay, steering away from tributes. Spotting a large, smooth stone in the ground that seemed dry, Sugino sighed in relief as he kicked off his laced boots and put them on the rock to dry, “Jesus Christ,” he muttered as he peeled off his socks, “The arena clothing is supposed to complement the environment, yet it’s hot at day and hot at night, so why’d they give us a jacket and padded boots? This is stupid.”

He swung his backpack out between his legs, fishing for his water bottle as he watched the male from District 1 receive a sharp, shiny hatchet and the female from District 8 receive medical supplies for her gashed thigh.

He unscrewed the top of the bottle, seeing a fight break out in the distance between two pairs. He sipped a bit of his water as he heard two cannon shots blast in the midnight distance. On the other side of him (quite honestly, he felt as if he were sandwiched between two battles), he watched the girl from 9 fend off three other tributes away from her fire.

Sugino had spotted two male tributes showing each other their weapons, swinging it around cautiously. He wondered why they were so lenient with each other, as if they didn’t have to fight each other at one point. And maybe they wouldn’t have to, but on the chance that they had to…

Sugino shook his head and put the water bottle back down on the ground, lying down so that he faced the stars.

Crack.

Sugino sat up, his hand grasping the handle of his serrated sword. He remembered stealing this off the female from 2, admiring the jagged edge that contrasted the smoother edge. It was one of the more terrifying things he had held.

“Who’s there?” Sugino gulped slightly, gripping the steel handle, the heat building up under his palm. He prepared himself for a sneak attack, his eyes flitting around for signs of life.

He licked his dry lips and sat back down on the stone, grabbing his water bottle, “Must’ve been a bird.” he mumbled as he took a sip of water. He thought that he must’ve been hallucinating when the water tasted sweet, “I must be dehydrated.” but that didn’t make too much sense to him, after all, he had already drank water earlier.

“Sweet. Wait-” As Sugino realized that this was nightshade, he tried to regurgitate the liquid back up, but his head had started to spin, his breathing scarce. He futilely grabs the base of his throat, collapsing into the dry ground.

He had looked up, his vision going blurry. His last vision? A tribute running away in the darkness, watching the silver hair disappearing into the darkness as his vision fades away.

{Kimura’s Perspective}  
{Day Six}  
{11 Tributes Alive}

Kimura woke up in a daze, the sun staring at him as he squinted through the light.

Last night, he figured that he’d give up trying to take over the girl’s fire. Besides, he had wasted lots energy trying to do so. But he was still alive, ready to see the light of day. And to his favor, he did! He was relieved that the girl hadn’t come for revenge in his sleep.

He had jumped on the efficient bandwagon of sleeping in the trees and while the splinters had pierced his hands, he figured out that the jacket had one use. He had sat on the jacket, tied himself to the tree with a belt, and dozed off.

He quickly untied his restraint, grabbed his jacket, and leapt down the tree (which wasn’t very tall), hitting the hard dirt with a thud, making the nearby bugs scatter into little distributaries.

He narrowly dodged the group of four tributes that were out for blood. The group consisted of the tributes from District 6, the male from 4, and the female from 9, and at first, it didn’t seem like much until he was nearly caught by the group. Thankfully, the nearby tree was wide enough to hide him and the nearby bushes didn’t make a sound that would indicate his presence. Kimura had to catch his breath for a bit before he ran far, far away.

Kimura was known to run a lot. He would sometimes run around doing errands and transporting grains. District 11 was the agriculture district, so he did a lot of work. Eventually, his legs got used to the strain, and that was how he worked out.

He silently watched another group of tributes raiding a camp. The owner, the male from 8, had gone out to hunt (Kimura had seen him earlier), and his supplies were out in the open. The tribute pack was successful in stripping the camp of its water and weapons. They left some food, certainly not enough to last more than two days. Kimura almost felt bad, but he figured that he wouldn’t try to intervene. There was no point, and Kimura was severely outnumbered.

He passed by several trees, many of which he recognized, and was on alert for the majority of the morning. The sun shone harshly from its throne above, his head hot to the touch. The people in the Capitol must be enjoying this, he thought.

He sighed, his hand resting on the handle of his spear. He would never know when someone would strike at him, and he was definitely not in the mood to die. He thought about his mother’s homemade curry, his favorite food. He wanted to live to taste it again.

He quickly made sure that his surroundings were clear before sitting down to drink some water. He sipped a little bit, making sure he had enough for the day at least. He heard that a tribute had found a river. He hoped that he would come across it as he wandered around the arena idly.

He grunted, walking past the boulder before hearing a rustle come from behind him. He heard the shuffling of shrubbery and gripped the handle of his spear, wielding it cautiously.

It’s a tribute: the weight of the shuffling, the way they seemed to move, it was definitely a person.

Kimura backed up against the boulder, feeling his shoulder blades hit the solid rock. His nerves tingled as his ears rang from the silence that covered the atmosphere.

“I’m up here.” Kimura had heard the voice from above.

The boulder.

He had started to run forward, trying to avoid the boulder, but it was already too late. The hatchet had already dug into his back, and it wasn’t long before Kimura hit the ground and blacked out.

{Okuda’s Perspective}  
{Arena Event}  
{Day Six}  
{10 Tributes Left}

Okuda’s braids hadn’t lasted long, her hair ties long discarded to nature. She leaned up against a tree, combing her hair down with reddened fingers. He hissed at the sharp pain that came with her harsh tugs, but persevered.

After a while of flicking off clingy strands, she shook her head, feeling the wind blow through her hair. Sure, it was dirty and sweaty, but it was certainly straighter than it had ever been the whole week.

She wiped her glasses with the dryest edge of her shirt, reveling in the clearer vision. She stretched, bringing her stiff arm up high above her head and straightening her back. After she was done popping the stiff joints in her back, she stood up, feeling more refreshed than ever.

She took a deep breath, bathing in the sun and taking one last look at the Cornucopia before heading back into the thick forest. She gripped her axe handle, ready to swing at whatever threatened her. She snuck around, hearing the silent forest decorated with the chirps of birds and crickets. 

She heard more chirps, soon realizing that they were squirrels. Squirrels? Okuda hadn’t thought that there were squirrels in the forest (had they always been there?), but she knew that they were food.

“Better than eating beetles.” Okuda licked her lips and headed towards the sounds. They had grown louder and so had screams. She originally thought that it was because a tribute had killed another tribute, hearing a cannon boom overhead.

She hadn’t thought too much about it until she heard three consecutive booms echo through the field. Was there a battle? She went to investigate, hearing more incoherent shouts until a male screeched one clear word, “Squirrels!”

Okuda’s senses prickled and she felt chills run down her spine as she saw an extremely wounded tribute crawl out from the undergrowth. He panted, blood seeping out of every part of his body, his face contorted with pain. Okuda recognized him as the male tribute from her District, though she could barely recognize him anymore. He sighed, his body going flat.

Okuda took a closer look at the marks. Bites. Fangs.

She heard the familiar chirping of the squirrels and booked for the Cornucopia. She just had to climb on top of it. She just had to survive the monsters.

As she ran through the grass, branches whipping at her face and threatening to stall her to the squirrels, which she presumed to be carnivorous. She figured that the dead tribute behind her would stall them off, and it did, although Okuda did not want to think about it. Her muscles started to burn, but she could barely feel it under her adrenaline-pumped vision. She broke out of the forest, leaping into the hot meadow and scrambling towards the Cornucopia.

She whirled her head around, seeing other tributes dash towards the metal shell. She saw the tributes that survived by outrunning the tiny flashes of brown. She also saw a tribute succumb to the squirrels, a small knife swiping at the animals, but it was already too much to handle. A blurry ball of brown fur and claws slashed at the epicenter before the squirrels scattered at the sound of the cannon shot. Okuda winced at the unruly sight of leftover flesh but kept running, the Cornucopia getting closer and closer.

This was the arena event, Okuda thought to herself. People in the Capitol demanded bloodshed. They demanded entertainment. So the Gamemakers heartlessly released carnivorous squirrels, not only to tear out the flesh of the tributes, but to tear away the last shreds of humanity that was even remotely left in the Capitol. They had become hollow shells, lifeless laughter would fill the Capitol for years to come.

There was a tribute running some distance from her, closer to the Cornucopia. Okuda hadn’t realized how large the radius of the meadow was, but she started to feel the fiery burn in her legs and feet, noticing her steps had gotten slower in intervals. She didn’t bear to look behind her, knowing that there was a hoard of squirrels tailing her, fangs and claws threatening to slash her clothes.

She had long discarded the jacket, hoping that it would block away the squirrels. But they had mercilessly destroyed it to shreds without effort, chasing after Okuda once more.

She noticed other tributes faring better than her, both from 8. She tch-ed and tried running faster, nearly catching up to the girl that ran near her, the girl from 6.

Okuda felt a sharp pain in her lower side, realizing that a squirrel had caught up to her. She screeched in an unholy way, trying to pry it off from her body. But it hung viciously, and other squirrels started to use the initial squirrel to climb up onto Okuda and surround her entire back. She tried to shake them off, knowing that it was in vain, her voice cracking with every syllable. If she were a voice actor, she would’ve certainly peaked the audio by now. Her voice stung with fear as they clung onto her clothes, piercing their claws into the flesh. Fangs were next, and she had fallen.

She threw some squirrels up in the air, refusing to die like this. She was NOT about to die from genetically manipulated squirrels. She refused the very idea from her head.

But other squirrels had joined in, jumping onto every visible piece of the girl until she was pinned down with claws and fangs. She panted for life like her fellow district-mate had, gasping for the little breath of air. She was in pain, a lot of it, but there was no helping it.

Her arms went slack. She figured that she would just live in the pain until her last heartbeat, deciding that she would relish in the last bout of sensory stimulation she would have before plunging into eternal darkness.

“Hey!” She heard a shriek sound from about, amidst the absolute pain she bathed in. She looked up to see the girl from 6.

She could nearly see her hesitate as she saw her draw back the string of a bow. “It was nice seeing you,” was the last thing she heard before a grey arrow was plunged into her chest.

{Yada’s Perspective}  
{Night Six}  
{3 Tributes Alive}

Yada could vividly remember the cannon shots that sounded during that eventful afternoon and how relieved she was that the squirrels had ceased pursuit just as they were about to grab onto her. It was like a gift from God.

Her legs burned with a flame brighter than the future of the kids in the Capitol. She recalled seeing them fight playfully with wooden swords, recognizing some tactics taken from previous Games. It was sickening and cruel; Yada nearly convulsed at the sight of it. They fought for fun? How ridiculous.

She massaged her sore feet, feeling the sharp pain of certain places. She noticed another tribute, the only other female, Hayami, nursing her infection and massaging her own feet as well. Hayami seemed to be crying, staring at the ground while muffling her sounds. She decided not to intervene, figuring that she’d be physically better off leaving her alone. After all, the last tribute, the male, could use her fatigue to his advantage and claim the Victor’s crown as his. Despite Maehara, the male, being her district-mate, she was not about to go down without a proper fight.

She decided to go for a risky strategy at harming Maehara’s chances of winning, torturing her worn down feet by walking towards a fire.

Fire. One day, this system would crumble. And Yada was going to be in front row seats.

She trudged along the worn down path, examining the tiny scratches on the bark. The anthem sounded as a hologram shone in the sky, showing the pictures of the dead. They looked so triumphant in the pictures, the three-quarters view of their face showing their smirks and smiles. But the way they wore their faces was a different story, the aura of the faces vastly different from one another. It was a reminder that each person was their own person all to themselves.

The anthem fades as the District 12 male’s face fades along with it, leaving the arena in a hauntingly silent atmosphere. Even the rustle of the trees felt daunting.

She gulped as she grew closer to fire, which had begun to fade away in the night. Eventually, Yada saw only darkness when the fire was put out, but it didn’t matter. Yada’s eyes had already gotten quite used to the darkness and had her sight locked onto her destination.

She located the pile of supplies at the base of a tree. Seeing Maehara nowhere, she cautiously looked for him and spotted the blonde in the tree, sleeping. How could he do that? Sleep peacefully after all that’s happened? But she decided not to question his choices since she had done the same before.

Peace. Yada scoffed at the very idea. There was never peace in this damned world. She knew that there would never be peace in the world, because she knew that as long as she swung her weapon at the supplies and destroyed every bit of it, there was someone in the Capitol cheering at the sight.

She had stolen this weapon off a tribute: the male from 6, was it? It was a pretty knife, the blade curving seamlessly and the little rose charm at the end of the blade. Cute, she thought. She wondered if the rose meant anything. Nevertheless, she swung the blade across Maehara’s supplies, spilling and ruining the water and food as the remains splattered into the ground. There were no dangerous or precious weapons (knowing the blonde, he probably kept them with him), but she made sure to slash the ropes on his snare and net.

She mercilessly ate the food (the good parts anyways) and left the rest to rot in the ground. She could laugh if it didn’t cost her energy and possibly, life.

This was the hell she was living in. The days of her caring for her family and friends were gone. Should she ever return, she would never return the same way. She wasn’t sure if her family was mortified or proud that she had at least come this far.

But family didn’t matter in the arena. This was the Hunger Games, a war between the tributes forced upon them by their superiors who felt that they must repent for the actions of their ancestors. These were delicate yet rough times, and Yada just had to be born in the perfect time.

Oh, what she would pay to see that infamous rebellion of her ancestors with front-row seats.

{Maehara’s Perspective}  
{The Feast}  
{Day Seven}  
{3 Tributes Alive}

Maehara had already been in a bad enough mood and to wake up to his supplies stolen and destroyed? Well, he was too tired and exhausted to deal with it and make a fuss. He was glad that he wasn’t killed during the night, noticing that his weapons were still by his side. 

A voice boomed over the arena, announcing a Feast at the Cornucopia, where many had died. Lovely. 

“Isn’t it just a wonderful time for a Feast?” he scoffed and walked in the opposite direction of the Cornucopia. He had nothing he wanted. He didn’t care. He would be alone with his daunting thoughts, terrifying mental imagery, and numb feet.

He knew that at least one other tribute would go to the Feast, as evident by the sobbing noises he had heard when he went to look at the Feast. He hadn’t wanted to walk in the direction of the Cornucopia, but he figured that he might as well take a peek.

The crying tribute was Yada. She clutched a photo of what Maehara presumed to be her friends and family. Maehara turned around and walked away from the Cornucopia like he had originally intended.

He spots the other female tribute, the girl from 6. Hayami. Maehara decides to avoid all contact with tributes. Besides, there were only two other tributes in this entire arena, and the arena was not something small. He figured that at least for today, he would steer away from them.

Kicking a pebble into a bush, he continued walking, catching a couple of lizards to eat on the way.

Maehara wondered if he would’ve become friends with the tributes, both alive and dead. He wondered what they were like when they weren’t scared out of their wits in a life or death situation. He wondered what would happen if the world were a better place, if the Games didn’t exist, if the Districts weren’t separated. Would they have gone to the same school? Done the same things?

He noticed that everyone in the arena was either on a high bloodlust streak or barely surviving. He had seen both worlds, sometimes in the same person. Notably Karma, who had hunted many tributes down yet questioned himself a lot. He had witnessed tributes crying right after killing another. It was unheard of, at least, the previous Games did not show these moments.

Maehara knew that the Gamemakers and the Capitol would cut these parts out. It was entertainment, not a tragedy show. Yet, Maehara’s heart hurt. The people in the Capitol wouldn’t know that they were suffering. They weren’t the galiant gladiators of the past who sought out for the smell of others’ blood, they were kids forced into a dome of death.

They had trained them senselessly, but they hadn’t exactly torn away their emotions. They still cried, they still felt emotions, they still wailed in anguish like Yada did when she surfaced that picture of home.

He completely zoned out, not realizing that his foot had caught onto a raised root. His balance shifted too violently, and unfortunately, the cliff nearby had gone to catch him.

As the blonde plummeted, he thought that this was such a stupid way to die. It shouldn’t happen this way, should it? Ah, he could almost cry, but we didn’t have the ability to force out any tears. Why should he force out tears for the Capitol’s entertainment? He refused the thought.

Stupid entertainment. He just wanted to be free. He wanted a better future for the future generations. But he wouldn’t be able to witness it. He sorrowfully laughed his final breath before colliding with the hardened ground.

{Hayami’s Perspective}  
{Day Seven}  
{2 Tributes Alive}

Hayami wasn’t sure why grabbed the bar mace in the first place. Maybe she just wanted another weapon added to her arsenal before the weapon was taken away alongside the body. She already wielded the scalpel chain in her non-dominant hand, the carnation keychain clacking against the handle softly.

She rubbed her reddened eyes carefully, wincing at how swollen they were. She regretted crying, but felt as if she was obliged to cry. After all, she was too late to find Chiba’s body, her throat knotting up.

“When you win, promise me that you’ll bring both of our keychains back with you.”

What could she do now? The weapons must have been taken with the body. The keychain would be long gone.

The heat had seemed to increase, Hayami finding herself wiping off veils of sweat. Her breaths became ragged and tired.

She had to win. She refused to accept that Chiba would have died in vain.

Her senses became numb as she kneeled onto the ground, the heat settling. She placed her weapons on the ground. She had already rolled up her undershirt sleeves, the jacket stuffed into her backpack. She rolled up the bottom of her shirt slightly, just enough to air out her body. Although it didn’t help, she convinced herself that it did and decided to distract herself.

She had heard the cannon shot go off, signaling a death. At the beginning, she hadn’t thought too much about the deaths. After all, there were twenty-three other tributes and the significance of a death between twenty-three tributes couldn’t compare to the significance of a death where there were three tributes left.

Well, now there were only two left. Her and whoever didn’t die. She wasn’t very aware of who was doing what and didn’t feel like assuming which tribute was alive. She knew that Yada and Maehara were alive after the arena event. As for who died, well, Hayami was a little stumped.

She had decided not to go to the Feast after finding out that Yada was there already, sobbing because of a sentimental item. Hayami decided not to mess with a person who already seemed emotionally unstable.

As she wandered around the forest, cautious or whatever moved in the distance, she started to do her own little bet on who died. From her distant observations, Maehara seemed the more laidback, bubbly one as compared to Yada, who seemed to stick to her goals and complete them in sufficient time. That wasn’t even factoring the fact that she had watched Yada destroy Maehara’s supplies as he slept in the tree.

Hayami didn’t want to assume anything as concrete, a song playing in her head. She couldn’t exactly remember the lyrics to the tune, but the tune had circulated through her head. If silence wasn’t of the essence now, she would have silently hummed the melody, adding her own embellishments. She chuckled under her breath. Would she ever be able to sing again after this? Now, the chances of her being able to feel the golden Victor’s crown upon her head was fifty-fifty.

May the odds be ever in your favor. Hah, what an idea. In our favor? Numbers were just numbers. She had a fifty percent chance of either drawing her final breath or emerging victorious among the blood of others. The odds didn’t care. The facts are merciless, much like the weapons that the tributes had once gripped in their hands.

She tightened her fingers around the unfamiliar weight she still held in her hands. The bar mace looked deadly (like all of the other weapons, but this one seemed to emit a deadlier aura than some), the cross at the tip shining with the blood of the one who had died.

She found it near the edge of the forest in the stiff hands of the District 4 male. The squirrels had made such a mess of him that he was unrecognizable, yet the glasses and hair (or what was left of it) gave away his identity.

Wow, she thought. In the span of an afternoon, these genetically engineered animals had ripped away an entire person’s identity. She shuddered at the thought of someone closer to her being in that state, deciding that she wouldn’t think about it.

Was she becoming emotionally attached already? She could laugh at herself if she wanted to. She would. She should. But yet, something lingered in her heart that yearned the opposite. So she decided to hold the idea back. She could laugh at herself later, if that would be the last thing that would happen to her. Then reality sunk in as her steps slowed.

She could die anytime now.

She gulped visibly, feeling the knot in her throat tighten in response. She bit her bottom lip, nearly drawing blood. She suddenly became aware of her breathing pattern, the way that her chest rose and fell seeming foreign as she thought more and more about it. Kind of like reading or saying a word over and over again until it sounds wrong, only with her breathing. She wondered if she would be conscious of it that she would suffocate from forgetting how to breathe.

Knowing it was impossible, she trekked deeper into the growth, pushing back large ferns and resisting the urge to swing on the branches in fear of catching splinters in her palms. She figured that would be better off without tiny pieces of wood lodged into her hands. Besides, she didn’t even know if her “good night sleep” replenished enough energy for her to swing on branches and be fine.

She exhaled out of her nose, rubbing her eyes, which had nearly fully recovered from the swelling. She kept trudging through the thick forest, trees after trees after trees. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to look at a tree the same way ever again, if she ever would see another tree after this.

No. She was going to survive. She had to. She didn’t care if the other had to die--

“I’ve gone absolutely insane.” She muttered.

“Definitely looks you have, if I heard right.” a soft voice sounded from behind her as Hayami jumped to the side.

Yada hadn’t swung her weapon yet, which was a knife that curved in an eerily familiar way. But she didn’t have too much time to think when the knife had been sliced towards her, the air whistling as the knife cut through it. Hayami stepped backwards and to the side, bracing herself with the bar mace.

“Wait, Yada-”

“Wait for what? The Capitol is sick of us waiting, that’s why they sent the squirrels out!”

“Yada! Whose weapon is that?” Hayami had implied Yada’s knife, or at least, the knife that Yada held.

“This?” she stopped, inspecting the knife while staying cautious of Hayami, “I snagged this off a dead tribute. Do you recognize it? Because there wasn’t a body with it when I got it.”

There wasn’t a body? “Show it to me.” Hayami waited for the worst and best.

Yada held it out, Hayami’s heart dropping as she saw the keychain dangling off the ring at the end.

That’s-!

Yada had tilted her head to see Hayami’s other weapon,, “Ah, is this from someone special to you?”

Hayami didn’t answer, her knuckles white with rage as she tightened her grip around her weapons, retracting the scalpel back behind her hip. Yada seemed to sweat more than she already was, stepping backwards whilst licking her top lip, “It is from someone special to you.” she declared, emphasizing the second word.

Hayami lashed out towards the other, grunting at how quick she was to react and move away.

She needed that keychain. She made a promise, and she was going to keep it.

Yada’s grip on the weapon didn’t seem to budge, her grip as white as clouds on a snowy day. She just kept blocking Hayami’s attacks, which were mostly made by the bar mace that Takebyashi used to own.

The kukri was surprisingly durable, the bar mace having little to no effect on Yada’s precise movements. Hayami didn’t budge however, knowing that this was the final confrontation. The battle between the two survivors in this hellhole. One of them would remain victorious, bathing in the glory as they ride the train back home.

Home.

Hayami gritted her teeth, trying to use the scalpel chain to her advantage, thinking of every possible way to boost her chances of winning. She tried whipping it around Yada’s waist to immobilize and handicap her, but it was a lot harder than she thought. And although she wasn’t sure, Hayami just had a feeling that the scalpel chain would break soon.

The fighting momentum had thrown them apart after their weapons clashed, sparks indicating the amount of friction that had occurred. Hayami swiped the tip of her tongue across her bloody bottom lip, tasting the sweat and blood. She took a breath before running towards Yada to interact once more.

Yada had gone into a defensive stance, slashing at whatever attack came her way. This proved to be difficult since Yada had moved around so much. Hayami stepped back to restrategize, blocking the attacks that Yada started.

Hayami tried to lure Yada against a tree to block a way out, but Yada saw through her two-second plan and jumped to the side, leaping in for another attack, grazing a cut onto Hayami’s right cheekbone. The blood seeped out in tiny trickles, which were barely noticeable in the heat of the fight.

They were mostly silent, the atmosphere filled with the clangs of weaponry and the grunts of frustration when the other avoided attack. Nevertheless, it seemed as if their energy were endless waterfalls, neither breaking their pace.

However, they had definitely floated between multiple strategies and actions, conserving their energy in case they needed it for the final swing. After all, this was most definitely the fight of their lives, one that the Capitol was probably reveling in.

Hayami desperately seeked out weak points and openings, even if they only existed for a few seconds. A few seconds was plenty enough for her. She just had to find that opportunity. Soon.

She was surprised that she was able to dodge most of Yada’s attacks, noticing that Yada had become more frustrated and took riskier moves. Good, that was the opportunity she needed. She just had to frustrate Yada enough.

She bit her bottom lip to brace herself for the next attack, blocking the knife perfectly as sparks flew again. Hayami stuck her other arm out dangerously, swinging the scalpel chain around a distracted Yada. The chain wrapped around Yada before it was too late, giving Hayami a window of opportunity.

She ducked and dashed to the side and behind Yada, raising the bar mace above her own head. Hayami gulped quickly before looking away and bringing the mace down on Yada’s head.

The cannon shot rang.

There was no blood. No brain matter. But there was also no scream or wail of anguish. Hayami wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Hayami avoided looking at Yada’s head and felt around for her hand, which gripped tightly on the kukri. Chiba’s kukri.

A voice boomed from overhead, “Congratulations, female from District 6. You are the Victor of this year’s Hunger Games.”

She took the kukri and her own weapons before crawling over to a place far, far away from Yada.

She couldn’t walk. Her legs were beaten to a pulp, her arms felt nonexistent. Yet, her fingers numbly twisted the red rose keychain off the knife, dropping the knife between her legs as she finally held the metal charm.

Hayami examined her own keychain, which was on her scalpel chain. She noticed that the chain was a lot lighter than she thought it was, realizing that part of the chain had broken. The other part, which contained the tip and most of the length, was probably somewhere near Yada’s body.

Her fingers trembled as flashbacks decided to bombarde her head.

“Mom! The carnations are really pretty!”

She bit her bloody bottom lip again, tears starting to form.

“They are very pretty, aren’t they, Rinka? Do you know what carnations mean?”

Hayami resisted the urge to stop trying to undo the ring that had latched itself onto the end of her scalpel chain.

“No, what do they mean?”

Finally, the double-sided carnation keychain came off, dropping to the ground silently.

“Well, the pink ones mean ‘I’ll never forget you.’ Lovely, isn’t it?”

“But beware the two-toned carnations.”

Hayami took the two keychains and hung them from her right-hand index finger, bringing her knees up to her head.

“Two-toned carnations mean ‘I cannot be with you.’”

Chiba was cruel. If she had remembered the meaning earlier, when he was still alive, maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t cry this much.

She was alone in the arena. She no longer heard the voice that boomed from above. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts.

She raised her right-hand, looking at the red rose.

“Ah, but on a lighter note, Rinka. If a guy gives you a red rose…”

“...it means ‘I love you.’” Hayami finished her own thought, mumbling under the weight of her own tears. She felt as if her throat would crack, her body already going numb and useless. She didn’t want to move. She wanted to stay here, to collect her thoughts, to regain what little shred of sanity she had left in her.

Damn fool. Proposing when he was already dead? Did he predict his own death? Just so that Hayami would find the keychain and remember everything?

But even that silent “I love you” had said so much about their interactions. Hayami couldn’t diss his intentions. She didn’t care if he fought against the squirrels or gave himself up to them as a sacrificial lamb.

All she knew was that the aircraft that her District manufactured had landed down near her and beckoned for her to come inside. She saw the Peacekeepers flank the inside walls. She tch-ed, hesitating to get up from her position and go. She felt as if they were mocking her.

But, she had to go home. To regain sanity and peace. To free herself from this hellhole of a death dome.

She left the remainder of the scalpel chain and the kukri next to each other at the base of the tree. As much as she wanted to keep them, she knew fully well that the Peacekeepers would confiscate whatever weapon she had on her. She emptied her inventory onto the forest floor, keeping the two keychains as she boarded the aircraft and they took flight.

“So when you find a guy that truly loves you, hold him tightly.”

Her bottom lip trembled as she fidgeted with the pieces of metal in her hand. She resisted the urge to cry and sob to her heart’s content, knowing that she shouldn’t break down and reveal her weak side in such a dangerous place. The aircraft was both dangerous and safe, hurting Hayami’s head when she thought about it.

{Recap of the Games}

Hayami hadn’t felt better as she walked out to the throne. They had healed and scrubbed her clean from dirt, blood, and other contaminants. She felt new, yet a weight still lodged itself to her ankles. She knew exactly what the weight was, but refused to think about it, for she feared that she would cry again.

Her dress was a cruel symbol, almost as cruel as Chiba’s last message. The dress was quite simple, the pink top cascading down into a simple yet beautiful cream dress, tinges of pink flickering at the bottom. It was a sleeveless dress, a portion of cream and pink fabric shooting up from the front of the dress up towards her shoulder, the tip dangling next to her ear. The glitter embellished dress was comfortable and made her feel beautiful, but she felt as if she were suffocating.

This was torture with a silver lining, she thought. They had just watched her tear up because she remembered the meaning of a two-toned carnation, and now they do this. She felt like a porcelain doll, a display of wealth and delicacy. That was certainly not something she wanted. She wanted to be her own person, not an ornament in their cabinet.

But as she sat down on the decorated yet simple throne, she felt as if rewatching the Games was horrible, yet she wondered about a lot of things.

The Peacekeepers that flanked her side hadn’t moved, their guns armed and ready. Hayami felt threatened.

The first part flickered onto the screen, the high-definition audio and video quality astounding her.

The first part was quite a blur, just a bunch of killing. She remembered the male from 3, the way he had arced over Hayami during that cliff fight. Hayami felt bad that she couldn’t remember his name.

After zoning out for a while, she snapped back to reality when a familiar scene had played on the screen.

“Sounds like someone’s getting a spa treatment in here, where are the cucumbers?”

She swallowed her spit and sat up for once, gripping the arm rests to prevent her from reacting strongly.

“Long time no see, huh? It’s been what, four days? What a contrast compared to the apartment we shared before this. Though, I was always training, wasn’t I? Even though the training deck was closed, I’d still swing around an ornament or two. That statuette of the falcon was a pretty good training weapon.”

She licked her cracked lips (they were still cracked even after the treatment was implemented on her lips to prevent that), thoughts running wildly.

“Wait, I want to give you something.”

She was definitely on the verge of tears. Had the Peacekeepers not been here and her makeup done, she would’ve sat in the corner and bawled.

“Ah, it’s been so long that I’ve forgotten most meanings. Unfortunately, carnations happen to be one of them.”

Stupid. Hayami felt so stupid. If only she remembered quicker, oh, if only.

“Oh-I...it was the only other flower keychain that was available…”

“Dammit Chiba, you could’ve just told me.” Hayami muttered under her breath, hoping that Peacekeepers didn’t hear her. Judging by their reaction, or lack thereof, she figured that there was a chance that they didn’t.

“When you win, promise me that you’ll bring both of our keychains back with you.”

“Let’s...let’s not think about this right now and go to sleep.”

No. No, why did she end it there? Hayami felt as if she were watching a drama and that someone had possibly made the worst decision of their life. She rested her forehead onto one of her hands, wishing that she could turn back time. She wanted to laugh at herself, go back in time and shake the living devil out of her past self.

The ending fight seemed to be less dramatic than Hayami originally thought. It was mostly them being frustrated and blocking each other’s attacks. Hayami groaned, noticing all the windows of opportunity she had near the beginning. How could she overlook such a detail? But then again, Yada made the same mistake, Hayami realizing that she had many chinks in her defense that had gone unnoticed. She didn’t know if she was glad that Yada didn’t see those little opportunities. She had mixed feelings, sighing as she leaned back and watched the rest with dead eyes.

{Victor’s Interview}

“So, you’ve proved to be the best out of the twenty-three other tributes! A round of applause for this year’s Victor!”

Hayami could barely hear the claps from the audience, her mask of happiness concealing her flurry of emotions. She had to control her breathing, knowing that this interviewer was quite known for pointing out the little flaws in people. Acting normal was hard when she was conscious of it.

She made her smile just a bit wider, tugging the corners of her mouth in a way that seemed almost foreign to her. The interviewer turned to her, his black hair matching his dark eyes. His amicable smile was almost forced and manipulative as he said the first question, breaking the silence, “So, how did you feel when you realized that you had won the Hunger Games?”

“Ah,” Hayami tried not to hesitate for too long, “It felt really nice. I guess you could say that it felt unreal and overwhelming a bit. After all, this is my first time being in the Hunger Games.” The audience seemed to like her subtle joke, laughing a bit too much for her liking.

The interviewer brushed his hair back, smiling widely, “Describe what you were feeling well you heard that last cannon shot.”

“I was crying, you idiot.”

Oh, how badly she wanted to say that. But she forced another toothy smile (whitened by the Capitol) and replied, “Ah, it felt like a tsunami of feelings came over me. I felt joy, relief…” She didn’t want to tell anymore lies, licking her lips anxiously.

“It must’ve felt exhilarating!” The interviewer's gaze changed, “Say, that boy from your District…”

Hayami saw it coming. This was the other form of torture they had. This was their second blade, third blade? Hayami had lost count long ago.

“Ryunosuke Chiba? Handsome man. How did you feel when you were in that cave with him?”

Hayami bit the inside of her bottom lip, balling up pieces of her dress in her sweaty fists, “Well, I was glad that he didn’t try to kill me during that night.”

The interviewer chuckled alongside the audience, “How cold. But seriously,” he leaned in, his eyes sparkling as his voice got softer, “what did you feel inside when you sat next to him, eating those apples?”

Hayami gulped as the interviewer leaned back into the chair. This was his job: to extract every bit of information that the cameras and microphones wouldn’t capture, “Well, it was great to talk with someone I can relate to. I sometimes wish the night was longer so we could talk longer.”

“Those keychains,” Alright, now he was getting straight to the point, “he gave you those, right? Any special meaning behind them? You seemed to be very fixated on them at the end after that final fight.”

The keychains had rattled next to each other on a customized bracelet she wore on her right wrist, the same hand she used to hang them from her finger. She fidgeted with the charms, turning them over and over again as she racked her brain for words, “Ah, you could say it’s the one last thing he gave me. He asked me to hold onto them if I ever emerge victorious, and as a friend, I wanted to keep that promise.”

“Just as a friend?”

“I love you, Rinka.”

Hayami wanted to clutch her heart at the ridiculous and cheesy quote that her brain made up. It didn’t help that she heard it in Chiba’s voice. But she kept fidgeting with the charms (faster this time, as her anxiety grew), looking dead at the interviewer, “Well, after thinking about the whole thing, it does seem like it was more than friends, huh?”

“Bingo! You planted the words right into our mouths, isn’t that right?” he directed the question at the neon audience, inducing cheers and claps. Hayami awkwardly smiled, the left side of her mouth slightly higher than the other as she raised the complementary cheekbone.

“Those flowers,” he pointed to her golden bracelet, “What’s the symbolism?”

Hayami gulped, raising the bracelet upwards and delicately holding the rose in her fingers, “Well, the red rose symbolizes love…”

“A classic, isn’t it?”

“The pink carnation means ‘I’ll never forget you.’” she whispered, the microphone catching her words as the audience ooh-ed alongside the interviewer.

He held a hand over his neatly pressed, navy suit, “How touching. I do see another flower on the backside of the pink carnation. It matches your dress.” he smiled as Hayami turned over the charm to reveal the two-toned carnation, “Does this one have a different meaning?”

Hayami knew perfectly well that the true meaning of the two-toned carnation would spark something she didn’t want to start. She figured that she could lie, even a little bit, “This means ‘sweet and lovely’” This was actually pertaining to white carnations, but she figured that it was somewhat close.

The interviewer bought it (or at least acted like he did), clapping his hands together, “How magical!” He turned to the audience, who had looked at each other lovingly due to the romantic aspects of their conversation, “Well, this has been a lovely and touching year for us all. Unfortunately, that’ll be it.”

The audience clapped as the interviewer took Hayami’s hand and stood up with her, holding her hand up high in the air, “Rinka Hayami, our Victor from District 6!”

She felt her cheeks cramp as the interviewer belted out a last message, “This has been Korosenai, here to bring you the unkillable truth!” He accented the second-to-last word, which had matched with his name.

The stage faded to darkness as the audience shuffled their way out the door. Hayami dropped her smile slightly, walking away.

{Victor Crowning}

Hayami sat on the bronze chair, vastly different compared to the two other thrones she was forced to sit on. This one was of a different color (thank god, she nearly felt sick of the golden color), simple and less daunting.

She watched the back of the President as he picked up the crown daintily with his fingertips and turned around, his gloves shaking as well as the hands inside them. There was one major thing that he and the interviewer shared in their smile: fakeness.

Hayami stood up slowly, refusing to buckle under her shaky legs. Why were they shaky? She couldn’t fathom why.

The President smiled as he placed the crown on top of her head, “Congratulations.” He had muttered the word, almost under his breath, getting uncomfortably close to Hayami’s face. She wanted to keep her dignity and life, resisting the idea to push him away and vomit.

This crown. It felt so light on her head, yet its presence had daunted her. This was on her head over the blood and bodies of twenty-three tributes who had longed and wished to be in her place for seven days. Out of the twenty-four kids that had entered that arena with a cruel fate, Hayami was the one to feel the honor placed on top of her head. Yet, it felt as empty as the weight on her. Was all the death and sacrifice worth a crown you couldn’t even feel on your head?

“Thank you.” was her reply. He chuckled a little bit.

“Your District must be proud.” He lowered his gaze to Hayami’s right wrist, where the bracelet hung, “It’s a lovely piece of jewelry.”

Jewelry. That was all this was to him. To her, this meant her life, her will to live. Yet all he saw in this was a shallow piece of jewelry that could be easily traded for food or supplies, which seemed to hold more value in the Districts than actual valuables.

“Thank you,” she replied again, staring straight into the President’s coffee-colored eyes with a defiant gaze, “I’ll treasure it forever.”

“That’s a big promise.” he smirked slightly, “Are you sure you’re able to keep up with something like that?”

Hayami gulped, her brain going into a frenzy, wondering if she would even leave the Capitol alive. But she smirked back, her emerald eyes sparkling in the heat of the sun, “It’s what I intend to do. After all, forever is forever.”

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾ 

Death Tally:

Megu and Kaho fight Hayami and Fuwa. Hayami and Fuwa survive.

Sugaya poisons Sugino’s drink. Sugino drinks it and dies.

Fuwa kills Kimura with a hatchet.

Squirrels separate and kill Fuwa, Karma, Sugaya, and Hinano.

Takebayashi and Chiba try to kill as many squirrels as they can, but there are too many.

Hayami kills Okuda, who is in agony, so that she does not have to deal with the pain anymore.

Maehara trips and falls off a cliff.

Hayami bashes Yada’s head in with a bar mace.


End file.
